Drunken Rambles
by Luvandia
Summary: Matthew painfully lifted his head up, the ceiling lights in the bar spinning, as was his vision. "Nu. Your face doesn't make any sense!" he retorted. Alfred was terribly confused. "We have the same face!" Crackfic.


_**Author's note: Eeeyep. Crackfic, no plot, and involves drunk!Canada and scarredforlife!America. I don't own the characters, though. :I A birthday fic for my Sealand, hope you enjoy, dearie~ (I know I wouldn't).**_

* * *

All was quiet in England's house, as he seated himself quite comfortably in his plush sofa. His delicate hand reached out for his steaming cup of Earl Grey, pinkie automatically sticking out refinedly as he brought the cup to his lips...

"Hey! Jerk England, tell me a bedtime story!"

And then he promptly spilled the hot liquid all over himself.

"Ow- Bloody hell, can't you just go to bed, Sealand?" England shouted, using a wrinkled handkerchief to soak up as much tea possible before it completely stained his favourite striped vest. Screw America and his 'AHAHA ENGLAND YOU LOOK RETARDED', his striped vest was perfectly fashionable, thank you very much.

"No! The awesome me demands a story!"

"Stop hanging out with that blasted albino!"

"I'll hang out with whoever I want to, you're not my mum! ...Or are you? ...I don't want to know, just tell me a story!"

That was how England ended up in a new (still very fashionable) vest, sitting in a wooden chair by Sealand's bedside, trying to think up a story so the troublesome kid would go to bed. England sighed, burying his head in his palm. He shouldn't have offered to help Sweden and Finland babysit the brat, Sealand would've been perfectly fine wrecking the house by himself.

"Hurry up, Jerk England!"

"You can't rush a good story," England snapped, eyebrows furrowing. "What do you want to hear about?"

Sealand sat up in his bed, grinning. "The Hero and the Maple!"

"That story again?" England gritted out through clenched teeth. "Fine. Once upon a time.."

* * *

"And y'know, y'know.." Matthew was rambling to his brother, seated on a tall stool at the local pub, his eyes unfocused. "Arthur has caterpillars on his face! They be his Iggybrows."

"Wha?"

The Canadian seemed extremely pleased with himself, like he had just saved the world from Global Warming. "Yuppers! Neat, eh? Why don't we have magic caterpillar eyebrows, Al?" His serene expression turned into one of devastation as he took a swig of Maple Syrup beer. "Whyy? It's not fair!"

"..M..Mathew, I think that's enough already," Alfred said, poking at Matthew's cheek carefully. His Canadian brother had his head resting on the bar top, right cheek covered in drool. "You're starting to not make any sense."

Matthew painfully lifted his head up, the ceiling lights in the bar spinning, as was his vision. "Nu. Your face doesn't make any sense!" he retorted.

Alfred was terribly confused. "We have the same face!"

"No," Matthew slurred proudly, jabbing his thumb into his forehead. "I'm obviously sexier."

Drunk brother or not be damned, Alfred would not stand for this insult to his ego, uh, pride. "No way, bro! Look, I'm the one with abs here, muscles and stuff, okay?"

"Sure~! If 'stuff' refers to your blubber~!" Matthew smirked uncharacteristically.

"Blubber...?"

"Y'know, like.. whale blubber! Cause you're so fat with that burger belly."

Alfred was horrified, an embarrassed flush on his face as he poked self-consciously at his belly. "I.. don't have a burger belly... T-They're just.. abs or something, shut up."

"You know what sucks?" Matthew interrupted all of a sudden, raising a finger as though making an important statement.

Alfred was less enthusiastic. "...What?"

"Vacuums! Ahahaha..."

In that moment, Alfred was sure he was close to pulling a Ludwig move and facepalming at his brother's antics. Honestly, was this how Gilbert acted? No wonder why Ludwig was never able to smile and acted like he had a stick up his ass (he most probably did) all the time! "You're drunk, I'm gonna be a responsible hero and take you home!"

Alfred's efforts were rewarded with a hiccup and giggle. "Yer like that one girl from that cartoon Papa Panpan made... whazzit called..."

"Papa Panpan? You mean .. Japan? Dude, those are called anime-"

Now, the only reason Alfred knew this piece of information is because Japan had almost literally drilled the term into his brain ("Arfred-san, if you carr them cartoons one more time, I wirr commit seppuku and haunt you." "GYAHHHH!"), forcing him to remember the difference between simple cartoons and anime.

"Higurashi! Yeah, cause cicadas are cool. And yer like that girl.. Taking things home.. I wanna be a cicada when I grow up!"

Alfred's (non-existent) brain had processed none of that. What did Hi..gashi.. have to do with cicadas?

"Matt, you ARE grown up!"

"T-then I'll grow down!"

"That doesn't even-"

"Don't ruin my dreams, ya hoser! I tells ya, I tells ya, I'm gonna be a cicada!"

Alfred watched as his brother took another hearty swig of whatever poisonous mixture he was drinking (it was obviously deteriorating poor Matt's brain cells). "I am so confused.."

Matthew wiped a stray droplet of Maple Syrup beer from his cracked lips, deciding that he was in a Disney Movie and needed to break out into a musical number. There was only one song he knew extremely well that didn't involve Justin Bieber.

"MY LITTLE PONYYYY, I USED TO WONDER WHAT FRIENDSHIP COULD BEEEE..."

By now, Alfred was crying profusely, terrified of the strange creature that had taken over his normally shy brother. Of course, the bloody git chose to call me of all people, for reasons I would never understand, especially since I'd been in the same place as them the whole time.

Well, obviously not anywhere near the two, seeing as I didn't want to be pubically humiliated (and you better not believe Francis if the frog says something like, "England doesn't need help to humiliate himself, ohonhonhon~"), so I was seated in a cosy, dusty corner of the pub, enjoying the show.

Until the stupid American called me, and I had to pick up. "What do you want, Alfred?"

"Arthur, God, Arthur, save me! I don't want to live in this world anymore!"

Suddenly, Matthew's singing (read: shrieking) was paused as he finally said something logical. "But we are the world!"

Alfred's eyes widened and he clutched his cellphone as though it were a glimmer of hope that his brother was back to normal. "Oh my God, Matt, you're finally sane again-"

"We are the childreeeeen! We are the ones who-" And then Matthew went and crushed the glimmer of hope, beautifully.

Alfred had gone back to trying to ask me for help, but being the gentleman that I was, I'd hung up and left Alfred to take care of his brother himself.

* * *

"And they all lived happily ever after. Except Alfred, who was scarred for life, and Matthew, who had the largest hangover the next morning," England concluded, smiling upon seeing Sealand's eyelids drooping. It was always the weird stories that got the little brat to sleep.

"Jerk England, why didn't you get drunk like you usually do?" Sealand murmured, half-asleep and mind in a haze.

England scowled. "Because I can control my alcohol, now shut up and go to bed!"

After successfully tucking the bundle of energy in, England then proceeded to stand up, the chair making an awful screech against the floor, before making his way down the stairs to pour himself another cup of tea. And deep in his heart, he had the strangest feeling that Sealand would somehow break into his alcohol cabinet, to follow after Canada in the story.


End file.
